


I'll Paint You A Memory

by Fangirlshrewt97



Series: Nile Freeman's Guide to Down Time with Immortal Warriors [10]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bets, Bonding, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Memories, Mild Language, Painting, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Teasing, This time its Joe Booker and Nile taking the vacation, and Nile gets to explore her grief through her art, art as therapy, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26931376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlshrewt97/pseuds/Fangirlshrewt97
Summary: Nile exclaimed, “You did not make a forgery of Van Gogh’s sunflowers!”Booker held his hand to his heart. “I swear I did cherie.”“He did,” Joe added, eyes alight with happiness, “damn good replica too.”Nile despaired only a little as she listened to the forgeries Booker was apparently responsible for, including a few museum pieces she had already seen. Booker had nearly suffered a cup full of old paint water, only saving himself by telling her he didn’t want her to destroy his painting. Nile glowered at him for the rest of the day, even as Joe laughed in the background.///Nile gets to spend some time with Joe and Booker, makes a bet, paints a memory, has a minor existential crisis about her newfound immortality, and paints a picture. Not quite in that order.
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien Le Livre & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nile Freeman, Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Nile Freeman & Joe | Al-Kaysani
Series: Nile Freeman's Guide to Down Time with Immortal Warriors [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1851712
Comments: 34
Kudos: 169





	I'll Paint You A Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Reader,
> 
> This will be my final update until after my exams are done, but I am nowhere near being done with the series, so if you are enjoying it so far, check out the other works in the series, and subscribe to it!
> 
> Reading your comments fuels me to write like nothing else can, and I have several stories planned. If you have any other ideas for ways the teams can bond (any dynamics work, but I am going be keeping Nile single/ the series won't contain any smut), please let me know in the comments!
> 
> As usual, these stories can all be read as stand alone or as part of the series.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, please let me know with kudos/comments (which can include keyboard smashes, one word comments, or favorite lines!)
> 
> The story is not beta'd, so all errors are my own.
> 
> Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, I am just borrowing them temporarily. 
> 
> Enjoy,
> 
> Fangirlshrewt97

They didn’t get a lot of times where they all got to just relax and laze around in a safe house all together. Nicky had told Nile before that it was because of the evolution of transportation that made it possible nowadays to reach any corner of the globe from any other within 48 hours. 

“Staying together was more a matter of practicality because when we split up, we had to be very clear about where we would rendezvous, and if something happened that changed plans, it was a pain to get the information to the others. So we actually stayed together for far longer than we were apart in previous centuries.” 

After Quynh and Booker rejoined the team, and a new status quo was established, the team was far more comfortable splitting up after missions, especially with Copley also there as a central connecting point. But old habits die hard, old habits built over centuries die about as easily as them, that is, they transform, but never really go away. Joe, with his mercantile background, had been in charge of the group’s finances for the past millenia, though Booker had started to pitch in to help him navigate secure bank accounts that couldn’t be traced back to them. So even if they were in four corners of the world, they were all still connected to each other and had means to keep track of the others. 

Their latest break involved Quynh dragging Nicky to Damascus, muttering something about helping him win his baklava game with Andy. Joe had barely tried to protest before the dust settled as Quynh sped the duo off to the nearest airport. Andy had decided to spend some more time with Copley, leaving by bus to Surrey. She mentioned she’d probably also check her bolt holes around the world before rejoining them. 

This had left Nile with Joe and Booker in Dublin, and at first she had been worried there would still be some leftover tension from the Merrick fallout. But the first night, her fears were proven unfounded when she had to come downstairs at three in the morning to tell them to keep it quiet. They seemed to be marathoning every sports match they would have seen together but couldn’t bear to see alone. She had been annoyed at first, but seeing their half hesitant, but also content expressions at each other, well, it made her heart fill with fondness. These ridiculous old men, so unsure of their love for each other, as if they hadn’t both felt the loss of their brother’s company in equal amount. 

She had ended up just telling them to keep it quiet and gone to sleep with her playlist turned up high to block the noise from downstairs. The next morning, the men were somehow up earlier than she was, despite God only knowing when they went to sleep, and had made her a veritable feast of her favorite breakfast foods. They had then crashed from the resulting sugar high, which was extremely funny to Nile. And equally endearing. These men were centuries old and carried the weight of that history on their shoulders, one much easier than the other, but they were still human, and seeing them conked out on top of each other in the living room rug brought a fierce rush of affection in her chest. 

Nile covered the pair with the throw blankets on the sofas as best she could before making her way up to indulge in the large jacuzzi Andy had promised was in the basement of this particular safe house. Kind of predictably, she fell asleep in the warm water, and though she did not drown (which would have been a new low of embarrassing considering the tub’s shallowness) she did emerge looking like a prune. 

When she emerged, she noticed that the house was too quiet, and cleared the rooms out of habits. The other two inhabitants were nowhere to be found inside the house, so she checked outside as well to no avail, only noticing a note with her name on it on the table next to the door when she reentered. 

> _ Habibti, B and I have run into town for a few supplies. We will try to be back soon. - Y _

Humming, Nile folded the note and threw it in the trash. As her stomach rumbled, she realized she had slept past lunch, so she scoured the kitchen for some food, only turning up some bread and hummus, plus a stray cucumber. Hoping the boys were getting food as part of their supplies, Nile made herself a couple of sandwiches before moving to the living room and turning on the TV. She flipped through the channels until she found a nature documentary, settling more comfortably into the cushions as David Attenborough talked to her about birds. 

She was so enraptured in the documentary she failed to notice the car coming up the driveway, but managed to clock the turning of the lock, hand reaching for the gun tucked under the nearby cushion when Booker’s hulking frame appeared at the doorway. She relaxed back into the sofa as he shot her a smile, hands fully laden with bags. Joe was next, arms similarly full. 

“What, did you guys buy an entire supermarket?” Nile asked as she muted the TV and joined them, putting her plate in the sink to wash later. 

Joe laughed. “No habibti, but we figured if we are going to be in lovely Dublin for the next few months, we should take a break from training and just enjoy ourselves.”

Nile raised an eyebrow. “No training?”

Booker’s lips quirked. “Once a week.”

Nile clapped once. “Thank god.”

The other two laughed. 

Nile spread her hands, “Listen, as much as I love getting my ass handed to me by a 6000 year old who would make my drill sergeants cry, I am looking forward to letting my muscles rest. They’ve earned it.” 

Joe bumped his shoulder into Booker’s, “You hear that Book? We are no challenge for our little sister apparently.”

“Hmm, looks like we will just have to tag team her to give her the challenge then.” Booker responded, amusement clear in his eyes. 

Nile groaned, but her grin was wide. “Let’s just put this stuff away.”

Joe pushed the bags more securely into the counter. “You guys do that. I have a couple more things in the car I need to bring.”

“What things?” Nile asked once he disappeared.

“His canvases.” Booker replied as he placed the milk and cheese into the fridge. 

“Joe paints?” Nile asked. She knew the man had tried every art medium he had come across but his favorite was still charcoal, after 1000 years. She couldn’t recall the last time she saw him paint. 

“When there is time. Paint means he has to buy them new, plus the canvases for it too. Not really viable for our lifestyle.” Booker said as he grabbed the beer bottles and placed them in the fridge. Nile pushed the rest of the stuff that needed to go in the fridge towards him, carrying the bag with the herbs and spices towards the cupboards. 

After that, stowing the purchases in their appropriate locations went quicker, especially once Joe came back. He kicked them out of the kitchen, telling them he’d make dinner today, and they could play rock-paper-scissors for tomorrow’s turn. 

“Why rock paper scissors?” Nile asked when they settled in the couch. 

Booker shrugged. “It is quick and efficient. Plus Nicky loves it so by default Joe likes it too.”

Nile raised an eyebrow, but all Booker did was hold out a fist and shake it slightly. Nile swatted it away. “I’ll cook tomorrow. Your turn after that.”

“Alright.” Booker agreed easily. He looked around for the remote control and increased the volume, where the program had now changed to a documentary about Cleopatra.

“Do you think Andy met her?” Nile asked as they watched a historian explain what a great politician the infamous queen was. 

“I think she knew her biblically.” Booker answered, snickering when Nile shoved him. 

“That joke only works once.” Nile said.

“Ah, but that would imply I’m joking. You’d be surprised how many famous historical figures out intrepid leader had shared beds with.” Booker said with faux seriousness. 

“Booker!”

“Ask Joe if you don’t believe me!”

Nile puffed out her cheeks in annoyance, but as Booker continued to give her his best butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth look, she got up from the couch and went to the kitchen. 

“Joe!”

Joe jumped slightly where he had been chopping tomatoes and turned to her. “What happened?”

“Did Andy sleep with Cleopatra?”

Joe blinked at her once. Then another time. Then multiple times in rapid succession before letting out a strangled “What?”

“Booker said Andy slept with Cleopatra. Is that true?”

"I asked you to ask him about Andy sleeping with famous historical figures, not Cleopatra specifically!" came the retort from the living room.

Joe blinked at her some more before setting down his knife and taking a deep breath. “Nile,” he began in absolute seriousness, “I have no clue but I want to know. Want to call her?”

“Call-” Nile stuttered, “Call and ask what? Hey Andy, did you sleep with the most famous Egyptian queen of all time?”

“Exactly that.” Joe said, still serious.

Nile squawked. “No way.”

“I’ll do it. Want to bet on it being true?” Booker said from where he had appeared behind Nile. Nile spun around and glared at him, but he met her gaze cooly. 

“Hundred euros she did.” Joe said. 

“That’s my bet.” Booker argued. 

Joe pointed at Nile with the knife he had picked up. “She can be against.”

Nile sputtered some more. “ _She_ is not taking up this bet.”

“Come on cherie, aren’t you curious?” Booker said, waggling his eyebrows and looking ridiculous doing it. 

Nile let out a whine and tilted her head back, sending a quick apology to God and her mom for good measure. “Fine, Hundred she didn’t. But. We are not telling her we bet on her answer.”

“Of course not.” Booker scoffed, but he was already pulling out his phone and dialing a number.

Nile bit her lip as she went to sit on the bar stool as Booker sat next to her, placing his phone on speaker. 

There was a click and, “What do you need Booker?” Quynh answered, voice equal measures of irritated and pants. 

“What are you doing?” Booker asked. 

“Running.” Quynh said, grunting as though she had jumped.

“I heard sirens.” Booker answered flatly.

“Well there may have been a slight misunderstanding with some gentlemen in uniforms.” Quynh said, voice taking on a mischievousness tone. 

Joe groaned. “Quynh, please tell me you did not drag Nicky into this.”

“Tesoro, I am fine. Those gentlemen were truly rude, and would not let the issue go quickly. Unfortunately, Quynh decided the appropriate course of action was to take matters into her own hands.” Nicky’s voice replied. 

Joe hung his head with a drawn out groan as Nile screeched “Quynh stabbed the police?”

“Not stabbed. Lightly maimed.” Quynh corrected. “What did you call for anyways?” 

The sound of footsteps had stopped, though the twin breaths were coming more harshly. 

“Had a question for you.”  Booker shrugged at the incredulous and vaguely horrified look Nile aimed at him. 

“Ask it then. I’m not getting any younger.” 

“Did Andy ever sleep with Cleopatra?” Booker asked bluntly. Nile barely managed not to choke on her own spit. 

“Who the hell is Cleopatra?” Quynh asked, tone more distracted than wondering. They heard Nicky mumble something, the background wail of sires too loud to make out the words.

“Oh Cleo! Yeah, Andy did not sleep with her.” Quynh said, making Nile pump her fist in the air. “I did.”

A noise like a deflating balloon escaped from Nile as even Joe and Booker gaped at the phone. Faintly, they even heard an exclamation from Nicky. 

“What?” Nile choked out.

“Ask me the story when we see each other. We got to go!” Quynh said before abruptly cutting the call, leaving the trio in the kitchen in Dublin reeling. 

“What the fuck?” Nile uttered, voice barely a whisper. Booker let out a loud exhale as he got back to his feet, patting Nile on the shoulder once. 

“You get used to this cherie.” 

Nile turned to look at Joe, hoping for some sympathy or enlightenment, but he just shrugged and returned to cutting his tomatoes. 

Nile stayed frozen to her barstool until Joe finished cooking and setting the food on the counter, calling for Booker to join them. 

"Wait, Booker I still technically won the bet!" Nile exclaimed when they settled down to eat. Booker paused halfway to his seat before shrugging and taking out his wallet, slipping her a couple bills. 

"I'll give you my share later, sorellina." Joe said as he picked up the salad bowl. 

Dinner was uneventful, even if both Joe and Booker had to prompt her to start chewing once she put the food in her mouth mechanically. She finished the meal in a daze and washed it before declaring she was going to bed.

Then she grabbed the nearby dishtowels and threw one each at Booker and Joe. Booker grunted. “What was that for?”

“I hate you.”

“You asked the question in the first place!” Booker complained

“Yes, and now because you insisted on finding the answer, I am going to sleep and have dreams of Quynh sexing up an Egyptian mummy. “ Nile retorted before turning tail and going to her bedroom, slamming the door for good measure. 

///

The next morning, by some unspoken agreement, the three immortals decided not to mention last night’s events. Instead, after a simple breakfast of cereal and apple juice, Joe dragged the pair into the attic. It was a small space, but open without the usual clutter of junk that attics were used to store, and the window at the end of the room meant the room was bright. Near it, Nile saw that Joe had set up three canvases in a triangular formation, with chairs in front of each, and was leading them there. In the corner of the room, Nile saw a mountain of art supplies and spare canvases. 

“Um, Joe, what is this?” Nile asked when he finally let go of her wrist. 

“Well sorellina, I thought if we are going to be spending some time here, it would be a good time to paint.” Joe explained, eyes shining with eagerness.

“Yeah I got that, but why did you drag us up here?” Nile asked, even as Booker tilted his head and walked to the canvas to their left. 

“You like art!” Joe said, as if it explained everything. And okay, Nile was starting to see his idea but, 

“Ok, I do. Why Booker?” she asked, before blushing as she realized how rude it actually was. “Wait, shit, sorry.”

Booker snorted. “No you meant it.”

Joe looked at her confused. “Booker’s best art medium is paint.”

Nile blinked at him for a solid minute before turning so suddenly to Booker she gave herself mild whiplash. “You paint?!”

Booker shrugged, even as he reached out to a metal box Joe had placed on the nearby chair. He flipped open the lid to reveal nearly two dozen tubes of oil paints in various shades. 

Joe choked before laughing. “Nile, you do remember our Booker is a forger right?”

Booker suddenly seemed to focus intensely on the paint tubes in front of him, lifting them to write what was on the tubes. But Nile would swear there was a faint blush high in his cheeks, especially after Joe’s proclamation of ‘our Booker’.

“I mean, he forged money. And passports for the team.” Nile said. 

Joe hummed. “Yes, but he is also an excellent art forger. Helped smuggle quite a few original pieces out of Europe, saving them from the Nazis during world war II.”

Nile gaped, mind working overtime to integrate this new information with the image of Booker she had. 

“You made fake paintings good enough to fool Nazi art curators?”

Joe shook his head. “No, no, Nile, he was good enough to still fool modern curators with all their fancy tech. I think there is a Botticelli he forged that is still hanging in a museum. Where Booker?” he asked, as if he had not fundamentally changed the earth beneath Nile’s feet. She let out a strangled sound. 

“Nile?” Joe asked in concern, only to stop as she put up a hand to stop his advances. 

“I need… a minute.” Nile muttered before spinning around and going down and out to the small backyard they had. She had been standing there, head tilted up to feel the sun in her face, for a few minutes before she heard soft footsteps behind her, too heavy to be Joe’s.

“Are you…upset?” Booker finally ventured to ask. 

Nile kept her head tilted. Then she shook her head. She dropped her head to look at him standing a few feet from her. “No. Just, surprised.”

Booker hummed, coming closer till their shoes were touching. She had to tilt her head again to look him in the eye.

“I guess, I mean I get that we are immortal, and that life is never going to be normal anymore. But sometimes, I learn such mundane things from you guys, like chess from Joe, or we go to an amusement and just ride the coasters. And other times, I learn that Andy has lived so long the stars have literally shifted in the night sky for her, and you apparently are some kind of master artist and helped smuggle art out from Nazis, and just…”

“Immortality sets in a little deeper?” Booker asked her. 

“Yes.” Nile said with so much relief she swayed with it. He opened his arms enough for her to sway right into his hug. 

“I…my actions with Merrick and that whole shitshow meant that you were introduced to all this by a trial by fire, and you handled it so fucking gracefully, merde Nile, I don’t think I have ever had as much grace as you did that first mission. And you kept being just that, steady, loyal, uncompromising of your beliefs, but also determined to make us live in the world more fully rather than from the outskirts.” Booker said, hand absently petting her hair as she clutched at his t-shirt like a lifeline. “I guess, what I am trying to say is, you are allowed to have freak outs about being immortal. And I really want you to not make the mistakes I did, because you deserve the world.”

Nile sniffled. “Damn Booker, for a 250 year old white guy, that was surprisingly empathetic.”

Booker gave a scoff of outrage that made Nile giggle as she leaned back, and saw that he was smiling softly at her. “Sorry.”

“Non, cherie, never apologize for this. Least of all to me.”

Nile brought up one arm to rub at her eyes. “Yeah ok, I’m good.”

“Yes?” Booker asked as he let his arms drop. Nile wiped at her eyes before shooting him a dazzling smile. 

“Yes. Let’s go paint.” Nile said.

Booker laughed and offered her his elbow like the men did in period dramas which made her giggle as she let him lead them back to the attic. She settled into her chair feeling grounded and gave Joe a nod when he gave her a questioning glance. He smiled back at her. 

Booker settled into his chair. “So Joe, what are we painting?”

“Anything at all Book. Today is free choice.”

Nile snorted. “What about tomorrow?”

Joe looked at her seriously. “Daisies.” which had Nile cracking up, and Booker gave a huff of amusement and Joe grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

Once Nile finished laughing she leaned back in the chair and looked at her blank canvas. “Do we all get oil paints?” 

Joe shook his head. “Booker prefers oil paints. I wasn’t sure what type you liked so I bought some acrylic and watercolours too. With an artbook if you’d rather that than a canvas.”

Nile whistled. “All this must have cost a small fortune.”

Joe shrugged. “I’m sure Andy is offsetting the cost by bunking in a cave of some sort.”

Nile snorted, before grabbing a couple of the pencils and eraser from the pile of art supplies she had in front of her. An idea was forming in her mind. She also picked up one of the art notebooks. 

She sat back in the chair, letting her fingertips run over the canvas as she envisioned her drawing before starting to sketch in the notebook. At one point Joe got up to bring up a portable radio and let a radio music station rotate them through Top 40s and popular local Irish songs, the sounds creating almost a meditative space around them. 

Joe had chosen some acrylic paints and set about mixing them on his palette before freehanding his painting. But then again, when you have been painting for nearly a 1000 years, some warm up steps could be skipped. 

Booker had his own palette with oil paints and he was focused on his canvas, though he would meet Nile’s eyes when they wandered away from the notebook and her sketch. She would shake her head and tuck her head back in again, drawing the lines and erasing them until she didn’t hate them. 

The first day passed amicably, the trio taking quick breaks for simple meals before returning to the attic, soothed into their work by the soft sounds of brushes against canvas, and the occasional change in tempo as someone grunted. The second day was a little more lively, as Joe and Booker struck up a conversation, filling Nile in on their art escapades during World War II.

Nile exclaimed, “You did not make a forgery of Van Gogh’s sunflowers!” 

Booker held his hand to his heart. “I swear I did cherie.”

“He did,” Joe added, eyes alight with happiness, “damn good replica too.”

Nile despaired only a little as she listened to the forgeries Booker was apparently responsible for, including a few museum pieces she had already seen. Booker had nearly suffered a cup full of old paint water, only saving himself by telling her he didn’t want her to destroy his painting. Nile glowered at him for the rest of the day, even as Joe laughed in the background. 

///

The trio settled into a routine after that, waking up and sharing a small breakfast before heading up to the attic and painting. In the afternoon after lunch, Joe or Booker would take longer coming back, going for a supply run or just taking a break or talking with one of their missing family members. And once the sun set, they would make dinner together and sit and watch movies together, two of them ganging up on the third and roasting the movie. 

Nile nearly died choking on her popcorn as Joe and Booker called out scores like they were diving competition judges as they watched the poor guests of the Titanic jump overboard in a final bid for survival. 

Her own painting came together slowly, with her hesitating to put the pencil to canvas until Joe pointed out that a perfect painting could only happen if an imperfect draft was present. Slowly, the white of the canvas disappeared under her pencil strokes and her first tentative paint strokes, before transforming into the painting she had envisioned. She spent hours mixing the paints to get the right shades, adding in drops of white to make it just the correct light tone, or a single dollop of black to darken it. 

Joe painted everything, from multiple paintings of Nicky in various angles and costumes through the ages, to paintings of his ancient home in Tunis to the best of his recollection. He also painted Malta, then another day he painted a scimitar and long sword crossed and plunged into a rock, a pair seen in shadows in the distance, with the audience having to squint to make out that they were holding hands, a bleeding Jerusalem in the forefront. He shifted between large canvases he used easels for and tiny ones he could fit in the palm of his hand. His art notebook started to fill with water colours as well. 

Booker was slower to finish his paintings, but they were truly beautiful things. All of his paintings were replicas of works he had pulled from the internet or books, and when Nile asked he shrugged. “I am not good at making new things. But I know how to copy.” 

Nile and Joe both pushed him to try for something original, but he got frustrated and threw out the canvas after two hours, leaving the house only to return in the early hours of the morning, thankfully not stinking of alcohol. The pair kept quiet after that, letting the Frenchman paint as he wished. 

///

And then suddenly, after nearly a month since she began to sketch it, her painting was done, and Nile dropped the brush into the water, not caring for how some water splattered on her.

“I’m done.” Nile said, whispered to be honest. 

But the two men heard her and set down their palettes to come to stand behind her. She had been covering her canvas daily so neither had know what she had been drawing but seeing the finished product, both squeezed her shoulders. 

“It’s beautiful Nile.” Joe whispered as Booker continued to trace all the details. 

It was one of Nile’s favorite memories, her Dad had been home from tour, and her mother had been given the day off. They had packed a giant picnic basket and gone to Millenium park, spent the whole day there. Her dad had taught her how to throw a frisbee while her baby brother chased after her, giggling and squealing in excitement at being allowed to run to his heart’s content. In the painting, Nile had faithfully rendered her father sitting on the basket, her baby brother asleep against his chest as her mother leaned against her dad’s shoulders. She had drawn herself in the center, surrounded on all sides by the three of them, her mother’s hands halfway through a new braid in her hair as her dad showed her a magic trick. 

Staring at the complete painting, she felt her eyes tear up, the palette being taken from her hand as another tipped her towards a solid chest, rubbing her back in comfort as she cried. Time blurred, and Nile would not be able to say for how long she cried, but at the end of it she felt lighter, a weight she hadn’t even known she was carrying lifted from her shoulders. 

“They love you Nile.” Booker said, voice sounding slightly hoarse.

“I miss them.” Nile spit out in between taking gulps of air, the grief suddenly invading every cell in her body. 

“That is only to be expected Nile. But remember, you never have to forget them. They have raised a wonderful young woman I am proud to know and call my sister.” Joe said as he crouched in her eyeline. When Nile sniffled, he gave her a soft, small smile, and rose enough to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. “This painting is a gorgeous tribute.”

Nile’s fists clutched the material of Booker’s shirt tighter, but the man did not complain for a second. 

///

The next morning, Nile slept in, and neither of the men woke her up. When she finally wandered to the living room around noon, she looked around, but only saw Joe in front of the TV, watching a rerun of some match. 

“Good morning Joe.” Nile said as she grabbed a banana before coming to settle in his side, snuggling tight when he lifted his arm. “Where’s Booker?”

Joe pressed an absent minded kiss to the top of her head. “Not sure, he left early, saying he had an important errand to run. Said he’d hopefully be back for lunch.” 

Nile hummed and settled into Joe’s side, half dozing as the game went on. She startled away at the sound of gravel crunching outside, and dislodged herself from the blanket Joe must have put on her to sit up and rub at her eyes tiredly. She noticed Joe coming out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his pants. 

The doorbell rang, making Nile frown but Joe took it in stride and opened the door, murmuring something in French before he could admit Booker into the house. Who, upon spotting her, developed a slight flush in his cheeks. What was going on here?

Nile asked as much. 

Booker was still standing in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck and looking sheepish before he stepped closer to her. “I have something for you Nile.”

“For me?” Nile asked, curiosity getting her to rise and approach Booker.

“I, um, I apologize if I overstepped, but I thought you would like it, and I only realized halfway through that I should have asked rather than assuming and -” Nile cut off Booker’s nonsensical rant. 

“What are you talking about Book?”

Booker took a deep breath before walking out the door, coming back in with a large frame in his hands. Nile’s breath got stuck in her throat as he turned the frame so she could see her painting staring back at her. 

Booker had chosen a simple brown frame that really made the greens of the painting pop, making it so much more vibrant, and added a protective glass layer on top. 

“Nile?” Booker asked, concerned at her unresponsiveness, and then again in panic as tears welled up in her eyes. His eyes widened and he barely had time to pass the frame to Joe before Nile threw herself at him though, sending then nearly to the floor before he regained his balance. The youngest of the group clung tightly to Booker, crying softly and mumbling into his jacket. It was only when he held her tighter that he realized she was saying thank you in repeat. “Oh cherie, it was the least I could do.”

Nile moved back enough to rub at her eyes again. “You have no idea what this means to me Booker.”

Booker smiled softly at her as he brushed an errant tear away. “I think you’ll find no one in the world understands what this means to you as much as me.”

Nile chuckled as another tear slipped out. “Thank you.” she said with so much sincerity, Booker’s chest ached. 

“I became so entrenched in my own grief and in the hurtful words my family threw at me, I let it cloud over all the good memories I have of them. But this painting of yours. I want it to be your reminder, and your anchor. You had a family who loved you and were proud of you.” Booker said.

Joe came to his side, brushing Nile’s hair as she turned to him. “And now you have another that loves you just as much, habibti.”

Nile gave another wet chuckle before rubbing her face into Booker’s jacket, even as she reached out to wrap a hand around Joe’s arm. “I love you both so much.”

Both men exchanged knowing looks before saying together, “We love you too Nile.”

Nile finally stepped away from Booker, and held out a hand for the painting which Joe passed to her. She took it to the center table, laying it out and running her hand over the whole thing, still feeling like she was dreaming. She felt Joe crouch next to her. 

“So, it is a little bit to hang in the fridge,” he started, making her giggle, “but what do you say for the mantle?”

Nile looked at the space he pointed, where one of Joe’s own landscape paintings were hanging. “Are you sure?”

“100%.” Joe replied. “Want to help to hang it up?”

Nile shot him a dazzling smile. “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize I could not use lovely Dublin more prominently in the fic, but I just couldn't figure out how to talk about it without breaking the flow of the story. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this entry, and if you did, please let me know, reading your comments makes me so happy!  
> And finally, if you want to come chat, you can find me at fangirlshrewt97.tumblr.com!


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